


Wax Wings

by unshakables



Category: A Court of Mist and Fury - Fandom, A Court of Thorns and Roses, A Court of Thorns and Roses Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: ACOTAR - Freeform, Angst, Azriel/OC Fluff, Diem Highmore, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Slow Burn, Spring Court, also, azriel shadowsinger, i actually try to make the timeline make sense, i've never written an acotar fic but i'm trying my best, main character is a baker who likes tea and can sew, slow burn i think, spring court spying, takes place before under the mountain, theres about 7-8 months before we even encounter feyre in story sorry, wars and shit, you ever seen an undercover mission??
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-25
Updated: 2021-01-23
Packaged: 2021-03-05 22:27:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 12,090
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25502851
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unshakables/pseuds/unshakables
Summary: "Was I just a piece in your game the whole time?" She barely made these words out, as her hands found their way through her messy locks of hair."I didn't mean to mess up your chess game, Azriel. All I ever wanted was to just figure out who I was supposed to be- not fake my life for years," Diem went on, as she faced away from him. Her hands were shaking now, as Azriel still walked towards her."I-I'm sorry, Diem. I didn't mean.. I didn't mean to make you fly so high, okay? It wasn't my intention for these things to happen, I told you to have an exit pl-"Diem cuts him off. "I didn't think you'd given me wings made of wax, Azriel. My life will not be a myth," She declares, and walks back into the labyrinth.-In which a half high Fae, half Illyrian woman may be all the hope Azriel needs, and Azriel may be all of the reassurance Diem needs.
Relationships: Azriel Shadowsinger/Original Character, Feyre Archeron/Rhysand
Comments: 3
Kudos: 37





	1. Spills, Spells, and Spirits Tell

“Stars above- sir, I am so sorry,” I say, as I accidentally splash a few droplets of tea onto his hand, as I handed the cup to him. My cheeks reddened, as I stepped away from my to-go counter to run a hand through my hair. 

The man simply chuckled. “I didn’t feel a thing, Di. Don’t even worry.” 

Thankfully, this customer had been in the shop before- I didn’t need to have any angry wives arguing with me, or anything. It was a blessing to have people react nicely when I made mistakes. I run the cafe by myself- these things do happen.

Can we stop them from happening? No. 

I fixed the nametag on the right side of my dark blouse that read ‘Diem,’ and got to wiping off the corner tables in the cafe, should anyone come in before dinner. 

I doubted it would happen, but oh well. Things were a little slow right now and few of us realized why. Sometimes we citizens learned glimpses of the truth- the High Lord’s presence wasn’t something we had felt in a… while.

As the half hours went by, the clock slowly made it way to six in the evening, and I found myself closing Crescent Cafe a few minutes early. I locked the front door, pinched out my candles, and left a few coins from today’s tip jar on my altar for the spirits, gods, whatever they may be. As I also made sure to pick up any extra cups or saucers left out, the sound of the fountain in the corner of my shop suddenly sounded real, not just white noise constantly in the back of my head. 

It was a blessing to have clean, fresh water in Velaris. Some in the Court of Nightmares were not so lucky.

That’s what this fountain was- my parents had built it. Clean water, next to our altar- as a child, they’d told me that the water had healing properties, as it would be blessed by the spirits.

Knowing all was in order in my shop, I poured the remains from the tip jar into the pouch at my waist, and pushed back my curtains to go upstairs into the home above. 

As soon as I entered the upstairs kitchen, there was the feline that had found her way into my heart, my love, who I preferred to call ‘Moss.’ 

Today, Moss immediately began to circle between and around my legs, meowing softly, as to ask for attention. “Calm down, Mossy. I’m tired, but I’m going out. I’ll be home as soon as I’m done.” 

The cat meowed as if she understood, while I walked into my childhood- and current- bedroom. 

My parents’ bedroom was left as it was the day they left for that ball, save for my occasional dusting and cleaning. 

They hadn’t returned, and at this point, I don’t know if they ever will. 

I unclasp the pouch from my belt, loosening the corset that was over my black blouse, long sleeved and off of my shoulders. I found a pair of black trousers, able to be cinched at my waist. 

Yawning, I pushed my long charcoal hair into a knot above my head, leaving the black top on, before lacing up dark boots, and finding a dark jacket to match. 

As I locked the back door, I walked down the path behind the shops on my side of the Sidra, finding my way to the edge of the city, where the paths met the woods. It wasn’t too dark yet, and thankfully that meant I wouldn’t have any trouble tonight, maybe similar to others.. 

So I walked, humming a song I remember, not exactly knowing from where, but detailing fighting, a high spirit song. The woods was exactly as I remembered as well, but I knew not to speak to the trees anymore- they tended to speak back when I didn’t exactly want them to, nor did they ever take kindly to my swearing. I never thought tree spirits could be so sensitive to foul language.

It seemed as if many spirits were like this, sensitive. If you called them such, though, I’d probably advise against ever going into nature.. Ever again. 

I can remember the first time a tree spoke back to me, actually- once, when I had fallen quite hard, I remember hitting one of the trunks and honestly cursing the Cauldron, when I had suddenly been hit with a, “That’s not very nice of you.” 

After a short talk, the kind spirit had to explain to me that most of the trees around me heard and watched all- if I was kind, maybe they would move out of my way next time. 

How they could do that, I never asked. Life went on, and so did I. 

Sometimes, I wondered if the trees remembered, but that was a stupid question. They can never forget. 

Once, in primary school, a girl had told me that the mortals thought that the Fae were unable to lie. I had believed her actually. Why would someone lie?

After meeting spirits, and working at the cafe, I now understand why one would lie. Advantages, disadvantages, damage control. It was an endless cycle. 

I tried not to trip on any fallen branches as I walked, but the end of my journey was in sight. 

Finally, I came to my favorite clearing: a small cliff, maybe a 25-foot drop, and a clear circle without trees. 

So many of my memories had been created here, alone.

I first came here.. Sixty years ago. 

I stood at the top of the cliff, shrugged off of my jacket, and did the one thing I had been waiting to do for days now: I willed the restraints down, and stretched the dark, leathery wings behind me, before jumping off of the cliff. 

[And here, our point of view changes to an omniscient power, all-seeing.] 

As he flew as close to the trees as possible, the aroma of pine was stronger than ever, latching onto his leather armor. 

The man sighed, running one hand through his now-messy dark hair. Today had been.. Rough. 

Sometimes, seeing people lose all hope wasn’t as fun as it seems. The information didn’t line up anymore, and exhaustion had taken over, as now darkness was starting to in the sky, the world slowly becoming lit with the captivating moonlight. 

This didn’t matter though- night vision was something that this soldier held close.  
Still, he soared over the woods, taking in the smaller birds who would sometimes fly next to him, perhaps under one of his wings, which made the man hum in amusement. 

He paused for a moment, as to listen to his surroundings- patrolling even when he didn’t need to. Underneath it all, there was a noise, a sound of laughter, a sound of… wings. 

Azriel didn’t know a Velaris citizen with wings, besides himself and Cassian, and maybe- Rhysand. 

Rhysand was still Under the Mountain at the hands of Amarantha. It had been nearly forty-nine years, would it ever end? Day after day, Azriel spied and searched to attempt to find any information, any way to know of anyone’s survival. Rhysand sent updates when he could, but there hadn’t been one for months. 

Considering that Velaris was still safe, so was the High Lord. 

Azriel had finally tracked the noise to the source, and he hovered above the trees just before a large clearing, as he saw.. 

A girl- she had great, dark leathery Illyrian wings, almost tinted purple on the edges. Her dark hair and pale skin made her look as if she was a spirit in the moonlight. 

The spymaster quickly memorized her image in his head, and, well, he made the decision to leave her be. Illyrian women didn’t often get as skilled at flying as this one clearly had, but something about her didn’t seem quite Illyrian- they surely didn’t find flying this fun.

Maybe he had bigger problems to worry about, but as he landed on the balcony at the House of Wind, the Illyrian himself had been waiting. 

“A woman, almost purple wings, in the woods. Illyrian. There’s no way she’s trained, and there’s no way she had stayed in the camps for long. I left her, I didn’t even approach her. I.. I didn’t want to bother her,” Azriel says, before Cassian can even say anything. 

The taller male laughs, the vibrations from such could’ve been felt in the floor. “No doubt she would’ve crucified you if you did. I can walk around town tomorrow, see if I can find one with her features. List them out to me- wings shouldn’t be too hard to find.”

As Azriel described the long hair, and the freckles he could see that trailed down her arms, what he didn’t know, was that wings… could be that hard to find.


	2. Cassian's Tea Adventure

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cassian picks up tea and croissants.

“There’s absolutely no reason for you to be acting like this, Az.” Cassian sighs, as Azriel paces back and forth on top of the balcony at the House of Wind. He had been debating whether or not he would send Cassian on this search today- something in his gut told him it wasn’t worth it, he didn’t want to disturb the girl anyway. 

Something about her made both Azriel and Cassian question if they were both on a need-to-know basis with their lives. 

“I don’t know if it’s even going to be productive, Cassian, she may not even live in the city,” Azriel places a hand on his forehead, before pinching the bridge of his nose. 

“How could she be in those woods if she didn’t? I’m going. I’ll be back in thirty minutes. Do you want me to grab pastries from that cafe before I get back? Amren brought those croissants that one time, she didn’t eat them, but it was nice-” 

“I guess,” scoffs Azriel, cutting off the taller male. Sheesh. Maybe Azriel was just in… that bad of a mood today. 

Before Cassian can take time out of his already busy day to argue with Azriel, he salutes the Spymaster, before falling backwards off of the balcony- dramatically. He flies for only a moment, before dropping to the walkways of the city of Dreamers, beginning to scan the features of every woman he passes. 

“No.. no, definitely not, not close, well- no. Not her either,” the Illyrian mumbles to himself, and thus begins the search that takes him.. maybe an hour. Cassian even pops into the markets, the jewelry shops, avoids the shop across the Sidra that sells certain things that he doesn’t need to see right now- Cassian knows all of the workers there, anyways. Minutes pass by, and there’s only one place that he hasn’t checked yet: Crescent Cafe. 

It was time for some well earned croissants, and maybe some tea- coffee? No. Cassian certainly didn’t need caffeine. 

As he pushes open the heavy wooden door, there’s a small set of chimes that hits against each other, as to announce his presence. In front of him, there were several individuals: One man, nursing a teacup full of what Cassian knew was tea, another man, looking awfully annoyed, holding a paper coffee-cup, and a woman, taking a parcel of what had to be pastries or bread, and a box of tea into her arms. 

In the corner of the shop, Cassian noticed a fountain, an altar, and- was that a cat? 

Behind all of the people in the shop, as it had to almost be closing time for Sunday, was one lone woman. She had to be the one running the shop. 

She wasn’t too short, you see- maybe she reached a little below Cassian’s shoulder, and had this jet-black hair, falling to the small of her back. He could make out the freckles on her arms, and her gray eyes looked up at him. “What can I get for you today, sir?” 

“Cassian.” He’s not quite sure what to say. She’s got this soft look to her, but it doesn’t seem to be all that’s behind her eyes. There’s no name tag on her outfit to identify her. 

Seeing as she didn’t have wings, this was not the girl. There hadn’t been any reports of missing Illyrians for decades. She matched the features, sure— but only Azriel could tell. 

“Okay, Cassian. Would you like tea? Coffee, maybe? Oh! No one’s come around to pick up chocolate or blueberry croissants, seeing as they’re my most popular-“ The girl cuts herself off, turning to the empty section of the coffee shop. 

“Moss! Get your little ass off of the altar! You know how much the spirits dislike that, you little- actually, I’m sorry, Cassian. Please excuse my cat’s terrible manors,” Again, she seems to not be as sweet as she looks. 

Cassian lets out a laugh, knowing well he would buy all of the croissants she had. “I’ll take the croissants. Don’t mind me, either, animals of any sort live in their own world. Say, what was your name again?” 

“Oh! Diem. This is my parents’ shop, I just run it by myself now,” Diem shyly introduces herself, clearly slightly upset by the way she admitted her parents didn’t run the shop- where had they gone?” 

As he watches her wrap up the croissants into a small parcel, Cassian thinks on how Rhysand would like the croissants if he could have them, before asking, “Why? Also, Diem: have you got any teas that go well with cream?” 

Diem begins to pour hot water into a cup, allowing the tea inside of it to steep. “They went to a ball, almost fifty years ago. That’s all I know. Maybe it was a carriage accident- I’m not so sure anymore.” 

As the pieces slowly click together in Cassian’s head, he realizes that the people of Velaris are more impacted by Amarantha than he ever thought. 

“I’m sorry, Diem. I hope you find out one day.” 

She runs a hand through her hair, before smiling sadly. Taking the tea bags out of the cup, she adds a bit of cream, and swirls the cup in her hand, before handing it to Cassian. “I do too.” 

The Illyrian takes a moment to place coins on the countertop- more than he needed to, and looks at Diem again, meeting her stormy eyes. 

“Thank you. I’ll be back again soon- maybe I can meet the little cat?” Cassian’s almost shy when he asks this- it was a double sided want to see her. 

One, to see what she knew about Amarantha, and two, to see why her parents had left in the first place. 

“I’m opening back up tomorrow afternoon, instead of the morning. Just felt like it.” 

Cassian smiles at Diem- a true, kind smile. “See you tomorrow,” he says, and lets the chimes ring as he steps out of the shop. 

Making sure that he has a steady hold on the parcels(and tea) in his hands, Cassian stretches his Illyrian wings, and flies back to the House of Wind, surprisingly finding it… empty. He’s in the kitchen for mere minutes before-- 

“No update? No call?” asks Azriel, clearly frustrated with himself. How did he let an undocumented escape from the Illyrian camps happen? How did the said Illyrian girl figure out flight anyways? 

“No messenger pigeon? Well, Azzy, I picked up croissants from the little Crescent Cafe, where I found a girl matching your description, and she didn’t have wings. She did make some lovely- rooibos? I don’t know, tea with cream. It’s the wrong girl.” 

Azriel scoffs. For a man of usually fewer words, he seemed to be speaking up this week. “I know what I saw. There was a girl, and like you said, she has to be in the city- no way she was this close without living here.” 

Cassian’s honestly not even sure how to take Azriel’s words right now. For a master of espionage, he seems to have missed out on a lot. 

“I don’t know, Azriel. Maybe you should go look by yourself. If we had Rhysand-” Cassian stops himself. 

“If we had Rhysand? If we had Rhysand, we wouldn’t be wasting our time on something like this. Unfortunately, we don’t know if Rhysand will even be the same when we see him again.” Azriel countered, the shadows starting to shift around him. Cassian took a step back. 

“I didn’t mean to say something like that, Az, and you know it. Not all of us accept that he might not be coming back,” The General took a sip of his tea, before going to the main living area of the house, stretching his wings behind him before sitting in one of the grand chairs, made for the winged Illyrians. 

Azriel followed, after a moment. He lingered in the kitchen, taking a deep breath. Cassian was the only one that Azriel could let his walls down around, when it came to having his “dark and shadowy” filter. It was no secret that the Spymaster enjoyed being a man of fewer words, but there was no reason to be around Cassian. So he joined Cassian in the living area, sitting on the chair adjacent to the other. 

Cassian clears his throat, going to speak- before a large, midnight hawk takes it’s time to now perch on top of the fence on the main balcony, a letter tied to its body. 

“Well aren’t you cute- oh. The letter is for me,” Cassian remarks, before going to read. 

“I didn’t know you could read,” Scoffs Azriel, leaning back in the chair, crossing one leg atop the other. Cassian runs a hand through his longer hair, sighing. 

The letter detailed that Cassian was needed in the Illyrian camps— one of the war-lords had fallen ill, and Cassian could take this as an opportunity to evaluate their camp, and see if they were doing their job right. He had been enforcing more freedom for the Illyrian women to learn to fight and to fly, and Cassian would not be allowing women to be put down any longer in the camps. 

Cassian chuckled at Azriel’s remark. “Actually, I forget sometimes too. I’m going to one of the camps in the north. I’m going to leave tonight so I can evaluate their camp.” 

“Okay, what does this mean for me?” Azriel asks, clearly confused at why Cassian needed to explain, 

“I’m supposed to meet Diem at her cafe again tomorrow afternoon. You’re going to take my place.” 

Azriel freezes, before connecting a name to the soft girl he saw flying in the woods. 

Diem, he thought. A perfect name for someone who seemed so radiant, in comparison to his darkness. 

And so, Cassian again leapt off of the balcony, flying into the sunset, while Azriel wanted nothing more than to yell at the sky above him, curse the cauldron- how was he going to act normal while knowing so much about her? 

That is, if it’s the right girl. 

The Spymaster had finally been challenged.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> well here we are! if you're reading then i love you


	3. Diem's Daunting Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Diem recieves an offer that she can't refuse, and Azriel tries blueberry muffin herbal tea.

One thing I remember is how much sleep used to hurt. 

In the blink of an eye, I’d have dozens of nightmares in my sleep, and wake up the next moment crying, clawing at the bedsheets, at my skin- I didn’t even know what was real.

The snow was real, I knew it as I ran through it and away from the Illyrian war camp, far onto one of the Night Court’s paths of travel. No one had stopped me in the early morning.

Seven years old, and I had already successfully escaped one cruel path. 

There was a carriage, I remember- black and purple, just like my wings, but as I looked to compare them, my wings had vanished. 

I wasn’t quite sure how to control it back then- hiding the wings. 

I began to start the opening steps for the cafe, looking back at how I got to this point- the carriage came to a halt, and a woman steps out, her red coat bleeding against the white snow, “N-Nikolai! It’s a child!” 

She says this sadly, seeing the way my cheeks and skin matched her coat. I don’t remember that night being cold. 

“Natasha, I-” the man steps out of the carriage as well, his red coat matching hers, “it really is. Little girl, what is your name?”

Nikolai and Natasha. Those names sounded so.. Unusual. 

I manage to speak up this time, “...Diem. My name is Diem.”

“Diem, do you know your last name? Where are your parents?”

A shrug in response. To this day, almost eighty years later, I still have no idea. I don’t remember who took care of me in the war camp. I had a bad dream, and I ran in fear, and somehow, years later, the pain started. 

Scars- red hot burning gashes, in the pattern of swirls, on my shoulders and arms, stopping before my elbows- on my collarbone. They bled, and then they scarred over. Today, they’re white scars, symbolizing some sort of Illyrian runaway or punishment. 

I’d like to think of it as the first time I had ever felt pain in my life. Enough of the tragic backstory. 

The entry bell on the shop’s door jingles as I’m pulling pastries out of the oven, and my regular steps into the cafe, taking in the smell of coffee beans, tea, pastries, and surely the incense lit on the altar. It’s a wonder that the cat hasn’t knocked it over yet. 

“Leon, your usual?” Leon Genesis- a man of good social standing, quite handsome, and a teacher at one of the academies within the city. He smiles at me, pushing the brimmed glasses from his nose to atop his head. 

He pauses. “Maybe not. Have you got any new blends of lavender tea?” Leon notices the bundles of lavender drying above the back wall, hanging from the ceiling. 

“Yes sir! Cream, or no cream?” I ask, pouring the already hot water into a cup to steep with the fresh tea blend I had mixed the other night. 

Leon goes to sit at one of the booth tables in the corner, setting his shoulder bag down as well. “Cream, and maybe a blueberry croissant?” 

Just at this moment, Moss goes to jump up on the booth, as Leon welcomes the cat- that little attention lover. I pour the tea and cream into a deep purple tea cup, matching it to a plate with a croissant, and set it on the table Leon is at. He’s just now begun to grade an enormous stack of papers in front of him. Normally, Leon grades for up to three hours- it seems those students never stop writing. 

Leon nods at me in thanks, as I go to help the few customers that have trickled in. 

Black tea with honey, iced strawberry tea with strawberry pieces.. Some come in for cupcakes, some just for pastries, some school children come into Crescent Cafe just to see the cat, Moss. I love it, though- there’s not much more I could ask for.

Maybe the freedom of flying. 

I know I can never go back- I can never fly high, for the fear of being spotted, and dragged in chains back to those god awful war camps. Nothing could ever make me go back, there couldn’t be a way for the lifestyle to ever seem normal to me again. Few know of the mistreatment of women in the camos, but I know I would’ve been expected to carry children much before my age anyways. 

My day goes on- simple orders, pastry orders, one woman comes in to order a cake. I tell her that I’ve never made a cake for a customer, and yet she gives me full trust to do so anyways. 

Towards four in the day, after Leon has paid and left, my store is empty for at least twenty minutes. 

This is paused when Crescent Cafe welcomes the newest visitor. 

Moss is meowing at whoever it is, but I’m currently too busy as I crouch behind the counter to organize the cupcakes in the display counter, before standing up. 

The door hadn’t closed yet, and I now understood why. 

There was a man attempting to enter the cafe without pushing on the very large, very dark Illyrian wings behind him. I felt almost trapped- if this had anything to do with where I knew he came from, I was going to have to tell the tall handsome man to leave. 

“Hi there,” I hear him say to my Mossy, who purrs as the man crouches down slightly to pet my cat. He didn’t seem to be threatening- but somehow, I knew there was more to it. 

The air in the cafe felt slightly colder, and I could tell that the candles on my altar had gone out. 

Finally, the man’s attention diverted from the cat, as he finally faced me, and his hazel colored eyes met my own. 

My lips slanted into a small, embarrassed smile as I immediately found the dark hair, hazel eyes, and generally standoffish aura from the man to be.. Inviting, in a way. Captivating. 

“Is it your first time coming to Crescent Cafe, sir?” I ask, leaning slightly over the counter. 

He seems to step back a bit, his eyes traveling either down to where they shouldn’t, or to the display cabinet- I honestly couldn’t tell and didn’t care. 

Moss meows, loudly. “Yes, actually. Do you have any suggestions?” 

I smile, as I turn to look at my selection of teas. “Well, you’ve got some choices to make.” 

\- 

[We are now again welcomed into the realm of all knowing.] 

As Diem leans over the counter, Azriel immediately sees what he’s been looking for. There, on the sides of her collarbones, while hidden, he can see the ending of scars on her skin.. Scars that match those of Illyrian runaways. 

“Choices? Uh.. I like blueberries. I’ve had your croissants, too.” He says, shyly leaning a bit closer to try to get a look at Diem’s skin. 

Diem smiles, before turning her back to him, beginning to make the tea. She just had to be an Illyrian runaway, didn’t she? Azriel would literally never meet a pretty girl in his life who could just be pretty and sweet. No, they all had to be as fiery as they come. Example: Morrigan. 

If she was an Illyrian runaway, that meant that her escape went unnoticed and that they have an undocumented and trained individual roaming the world freely. What was he even supposed to do about this? There was the slight chance that Azriel could ask if she wanted to be taken back to one of the camps, but even Azriel didn’t enjoy going back there too often. 

Maybe he could get the information out of her- but there was the question.

Where were her wings? 

As Azriel wondered, the answer suddenly hit him: Diem was the same as Rhysand. Half Fae, meaning he could hide his wings at will. 

Diem was Half-Fae, and Half-Illyrian. 

She turns around, handing Azriel a tea cup, gesturing to any of the seats. “Blueberry muffin herbal. My favorite, actually.” 

It seems that Azriel can’t be sneaky, can’t help himself, and is literally about to be the worst Spymaster to ever Spymaster. 

“Where did you get Illyrian runaway scars?” 

“Shit,” Diem mumbles, and reaches for the alcohol she kept hidden under the counter. 

-

“Let me get this straight,” Azriel says, taking another sip of the tea, “You used to sleepwalk, and have nightmares, so you didn’t really know what was real, and one night, you just.. Left? You ran away?” 

“No one noticed, I’m telling you. I couldn’t figure out what was real, and I left. The scars came a year or so later,” Diem explains, as Azriel leans back in the chair, his wings behind him, touching the ground. Mossy had curled up in one of the shadows underneath the Illyrian wings. 

Azriel takes a moment to think. He didn’t expect Diem to actually tell him the truth, but this certainly was a different way to get the truth than his usual ways. Over tea, especially good tea, was also better than the usually scheduled program. 

There was no way that Cassian would believe that this was all true. If Cassian did believe Azriel, there was no way that he would let Diem stay here. Cassian and.. Cassian and Rhysand would both push for Azriel to recruit a trained female Illyrian, who could hide her wings, to ally with the inner circle- perhaps spy for them. 

Actually, that’s exactly what Rhysand would ask for- someone to assist in finding information out about the war they all knew would come one day. The courts had never been so divided, and it was in the Night Court’s best interest to take advantage of the opportunity to take the information needed. So, Azriel straightened in his chair, and prepared himself to ask a loaded question: 

“Would you ever consider working alongside the Illyrians again?” His voice was as stone cold as ever, but there was a slight hint of curiosity in his voice which Diem immediately picked up on. 

“Who would run my shop?” 

He pauses. Nuala and Cerridwen must be bored of spying and cleaning all the time, but they were currently.. busy. Under the mountain. “I have a few friends who have always wanted to learn to bake,” Azriel offers. 

As Diem takes the moment to think, Azriel observes as she begins to take the two braids out of her hair, letting her hair fall down properly, a slight curl to it. Diem runs her hands through her hair, sighing. 

“What would I even gain?” 

“Satisfaction of doing more than running a coffee shop?” 

“Does Mossy get a new home?” A quick response. Azriel respected that. 

He chuckles, “Of course Moss gets a new home.” 

Diem looks around the coffee shop- the only place she’s truly felt at home, but it reeked of her parents and their disappearance. Maybe it would do her good to finally escape. 

“If I don’t like it..”

Azriel nods, “You can come home anytime.” 

Diem sighs, running a hand through her hair again. “On one condition will I become your personal spy,” 

“My personal spy? More like- you know what, say as you wish.” Azriel laughs again. 

“Mossy gets to live a luxurious life and- will I be getting paid for this? I just thought of that now. I honestly agreed to the whole thing regardless, but I’m just wondering—“ 

Azriel cuts Diem off yet again, a soft smile on his lips. 

“Yes. You’ll be compensated for returning to the Illyrian camp to train in combat for a week or so and then to train as a spy elsewhere, and compensated for the spying afterward. What’s the condition?” 

Diem continues, “Do I get fancy royal bed sheets? Like, soft ones? Can I have something cool like that? I mean for sleeping, I don’t really mind that much, as long as I’m fed, Mossy gets to come with, and the shop keeps up. I can come home anytime if I’m uncomfortable.” 

Azriel nods again. “Stay as long as you want.” 

He says this, knowing he doesn’t know Diem’s full story. Something inside of Azriel tells him to trust her, to let her in. She’s not going to hurt him, he knows it. 

“Okay, then. I agree.” Diem holds out her right hand to shake Azriel’s. 

As their skin touches, Azriel, for once, feels at peace. He rises from his seat. 

“You can fly as high as you want, Diem. If you see me, you can always say hi. Maybe say hi to Cassian- scare the shit out of him,” the Spymaster suggests. 

Azriel goes to open the door as Diem chuckles at the suggestion, before saying, “Goodnight, Azriel.” 

He stops within the doorway, a small smile on his lips again. 

“Goodnight, Diem. I’ll see you tomorrow, as will one of my.. acquaintances.” 

With that, Azriel launches himself into the air, off to tell Cassian the progress he’s finally made. 

Goodnight indeed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i hope this was good!! i had serious doubts about this chapter but its okay


	4. Leonidas Learns a Thing or Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Diem meets a friend of Azriel's, and answers a few questions.

As I gazed at the ceiling above me, I finally noticed the cracks in the paint- the way the paint wasn’t even where it met the wall, the bubbles on the paint.

I had finally noticed everything that I knew I would forget. Pushing myself up off of the soft bed, I stared at my reflection now, too. 

Today would be the start of the rest of my life. 

I met a random male in my cafe, who had made me an offer I simply couldn’t refuse, and now, I will be again affiliated with the Illyrians that I had escaped from so many years ago. I knew he would be teaching me to fight, and- no, that’s it. There’s no way to expect the unknown, especially when it comes to the Illyrians in general. 

SIghing, I push myself off of my bed, walking to the closet, before selecting an outfit that could be layered: I wasn’t sure how cold it would be in those.. God awful mountains. 

All I can remember is feeling so trapped in a place with endless space, endless sky.

It would be different now. 

As I pull on my boots, Moss meows as she pushes open the door to my bedroom, rubbing her head on the edge of the door. I smile, reaching down to pet her head. We would come to get Mossy when it was time to leave, but we would be back soon.

Entering the kitchen of my apartment, I put the kettle on the stove to heat water for coffee, before deciding on a croissant and some fruit for breakfast. 

I notice now that there’s a tile on the floor that’s crooked, and the cabinets have always squeaked, haven't they? 

I pour the hot water through the filter, and allow it to sit for a minute, turning to pick up a mug. 

“How have you not noticed me yet?” 

I snap to look at my living room. There, on one of the plush seats, is.. a man. 

Doesn’t even look Illyrian, actually. The tan skin, brown eyes, and scar along his jaw- 

“Azriel hasn’t trained you one bit, has he?” 

I shake my head. “Why are you in my living room? Answer that first.” 

The man chuckles, rising from the seat, extending a hand. “Leonidas, one of Azriel’s.. disciples? Special team mates? Not Illyrian but can throw a knife like one?” 

He’s the spy that Azriel’s sent to run the cafe while I’m off doing.. Cauldron knows what. I get it now. 

“Diem. Do you even know how to make coffee?” 

Two hours later, I’ve successfully taught Leon everything he needs to know to run the cafe without running it.. into the ground. I’ve taught him to make croissants, muffins, cookies, I’ve even demonstrated how to dry the herbs and flowers for the tea, and even the regular drinks that get ordered daily, and around what time. 

Leonidas tells me that Azriel actually caught him as he was sent to assassinate Azriel. The Spymaster decided that Leonidas wasn’t cut out for murder work, and recruited him. 

He’s been doing “special work” ever since, apparently. The thought of special work only makes me wonder what would be happening when a certain winged spy showed up on my doorstep. 

As I tend to the gardens on the roof of the cafe, my mind.. escapes away from the troubles of the lavender that needs to be propped up, and to what could happen in the near future. Would it be spying? Fighting? Could Azriel have meant that I would be learning how to.. Kill? 

There I was, in a dimly lit hallway, walking with a bundle of fabric in my hand, when I’m pulled to the side, suddenly whisked away from wherever I had been going in that emerald green gown I seemed to be wearing. Velvet- why was the skirt velvet and not the bodice of the dress? It must be some fashion of the time. 

“Diem,” The shadowy stranger said, leaning in close to me, “Why must I always meet you like this?” 

I couldn’t make out who the stranger was, their soft hair, strong arms- 

“You’ve surely been productive this morning.” 

The voices matched. “Azriel,” I chuckled, not even turning to look at him, “Did you find Leonidas running the shop?” 

The Spymaster makes his way to the bench I had dragged up to the rooftop years ago, before sitting, next to the flowerbed I was currently working on. “I always wondered who tended to this garden, and I had never even considered it wasn’t just for show.” 

I peeled off the gardening gloves I had been wearing, setting them in the box that held the related tools. Looking up at him, finally, I realized I had never even seen Azriel in the light. I had only met him once- and yet, I noticed a freckle on his left wrist, the sleeves of the deep blue tunic pushed up to his elbows, the neckline low and open enough to expose the Illyrian tattoos that I wondered if he wore proudly. 

“You’re staring,” Azriel points out, and reaches his hand to use a finger to tilt my chin up, as I meet his eyes. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I respond coolly, an attempt at lying. 

Azriel smirks, as he leans back onto the bench, his wings behind him. “You know, if you tilt your head slightly when you say that, you have an extremely good chance at having someone believe you. Blink once or twice, make sure to stare right into their eyes, but use that accusational look of yours: make them wonder why they’re asking you.. Shouldn’t you be asking them?” 

Ah. So this would be lesson number one, then: how to lie. 

I stood up from the flower bed, dusting off my pants, “Lesson number one, huh?” 

The Spymaster shook his head. “Surprisingly, no. You already know how to lie, I’m sure of it. You just need to get that specific mannerism down. Lesson number one surely won’t be on the rooftop of your apartment.” 

“Why, where are we going?” I ask, beginning to descend the stairs back into the apartment, as the Illyrian also starts to follow, “Shouldn’t I pack for something like this?” 

“Yes, that’s what we’ll do now. Diem, have you been to any Illyrian camps recently?” Azriel asks this as he shuts the door leading to the roof, locking it. 

“No,” I begin to pull a bag I can use for clothing, and another for Moss, who has also just started to find Azriel, “Why?” 

Azriel looks around my apartment, his eyes catching on a few things. I walk to my own bedroom, folding two plain skirts, two pairs of pants, three corsets, and other things- I’d figure out the details later. “Curiosity. Why’s there another bedroom?” 

“That’s my parents’ bedroom. I’m afraid I haven’t touched it,” I explain, as I add the finishing items to the bag of clothing, then coaxing Moss to step into the carrier bag for him. 

“I’m sorry to hear that, Diem.” Azriel apologizes genuinely, and I can’t quite catch why- he never knew Natasha or Nikolai. 

“It’s.. It’s fine,” I say. By now, I’m standing in the kitchen, taking in my home, almost as if I’d never see it again. 

“We’ll be back soon,” I tell Mossy, before I close the door on the life I know, locking it with a key. 

As Azriel and I exit the cafe, waving goodbye to Leonidas, Azriel asks one more question, opening the door to a carriage that I hadn’t noticed in the first place.. 

“Diem, have you ever been to the Spring Court?” 

“No, why?” I ask, tilting my head to one side. 

Azriel smiles, before nodding to the man leading the horses for the carriage. 

“Good,” he says, and the carriage pulls away from the life I never thought I’d leave.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I felt real off about this chapter- my motivation's been down, but now, the real story begins.


	5. Carriage Rides & Adventures to the Countryside

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Azriel likes carriage rides, and Diem asks more questions.

One thing was for sure- I had never seen so much of the Night Court. 

We had been riding in the same carriage for a few hours now, and still hadn’t stopped. I could hope for a stop in a small village, maybe find an inn that had warm beef stew- I missed the stew that my mother used to make in the winter, we would serve some for lunch in the cafe, too. 

I should’ve brought the recipe card with me, but maybe the Illyrians knew how to make good food. One could only hope. 

What was I hoping for, at this point? Azriel was looking out the window, last time I had looked at him- and now, as I turned my head, I was met again by his pair of hazel eyes. 

“Is something wrong?” Azriel asks, tilting his head slightly. There seemed to be worry behind his words- why, though? Why, when he was the one who had given me the opportunity of a lifetime, he was the one who knew more about this world than I did- he must know I would be okay. 

“Stars, no. I’m just.. thinking. I’m not sure what to expect, really. I haven’t been to an Illyrian camp since I was.. seven, before I had my great escape,” I say, fumbling with the end of the braid my hair was now in. 

Azriel watched my hands, before looking back up at my face. “You have nothing to be afraid of, Diem. I’ll be here.” 

Short answers, as usual. At least for today, that’s been the usual. I wanted him to just talk to me- I wished for Azriel to tell me so many things, about where he came from, at least why he asked about the Spring Court. I deserved to know that. 

“Why would you ask me about the Spring Court?” I finally ask, leaning across the space in the carriage, closer to Azriel’s face. The back of my hands touched his knee, as I looked up at him. 

His gaze shifted down to my hands, again. Azriel moved his focus a lot, I noticed. “Have you figured out what it is I do yet?” 

I shake my head, leaning back into the seat again. Azriel smirks. “As the Night Court’s one of a kind.. well, the High Lord calls me his.. Spymaster. We have business to do in the Spring Court. You’ll be doing it, and I’m going to teach you how.” 

The Spring Court? Nikolai and Natasha had originally been from there, anyways- maybe this wouldn’t be so bad. 

“Teach me what, exactly?” I ask, looking out the window of the carriage again. 

Azriel follows my gaze. “You know how to fight, at least somewhat, I’m sure. I don’t think you’ll need it. All you need to do is listen.” 

“So why didn’t we fly to the camp?” 

“Do you not like carriage rides? Frankly, I find this charming.” He sighs, as the Illyrian mountains part, and we slow to a stop. 

Finally, I ask my real question: “Why should I do this?” 

Azriel’s eyes flash from hazel to a charcoal black, shadows beginning to swirl from the Illyrian tattoos on his shoulders, leading to places I couldn’t see. 

“You want to run a cafe for the rest of your life, wondering if your parents are dead or not? You’re going to think it’s fine to be a trained Illyrian and do nothing with that, let yourself be useless, just a girl in a cafe,” Azriel begins, slight venom dripping from his words, 

“You’re gonna ignore the fact that the High Lord has been gone for nearly fifty years and your work could save him, if not all of the courts? You may not understand, but the High Lord of the Night Court would want you- and needs you to help us understand what’s going on in other courts, so we know how exactly to approach the others when it’s time to work together.” Azriel finishes now, as I allow myself to simply listen to him. It hurts, really- being told I would’ve been useless. 

I know it’s true. Tea wouldn’t solve anything. 

“So I’d get the satisfaction of saving the world, huh?” I taunt, seeing the houses of the Illyrian camps begin to appear in my vision. 

The Spymaster chuckles now, the vibrations from the noise could be felt in my fingers. “Among other things. I’m asking you to ally with the Night Court, as one of its citizens- ally with me.” 

The carriage finally stops, and the man who had been steering the carriage opens the door, before Azriel exits in front of me, holding a hand out to assist me in getting out. 

“Allying with the Night Court, sure,” I say, allowing Azriel to hold my hand in his, 

“Allying with you? Convince me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this one is short because we are now switching to azriels pov in the next chapter!!!! wooooooo


	6. Flights and Half-Fae Fights

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Azriel doesn't like people. 
> 
> Cassian shows Diem around the Illyrian war camp.
> 
> Diem doesn't miss home.

Convince her. 

She had asked me to convince her to ally to help save the world as we know it, quite honestly. I didn’t think of myself as one to believe in such cliches, but really, at this point, what else was there to believe in? 

The one person I never thought that Cassian, Mor, Amren and I wouldn’t have access to was gone. We didn’t know if we’d ever see him again, and somehow we had to be okay with that. All I seemed to have was my oaf of a friend and spies in every court to feel like hope. 

Hope, I suppose. That was all we could ask for. 

Diem let go of my hand, before looking around at the Illyrian camp she hadn’t seen since her childhood, her eyes widening at the flying figures that were now above us. I watched her eyes dart between every Illyrian in the sky, her hands falling to her sides as she seemed to desperately try to recognize anyone in her sight.

How long had it been since she had been around any group of people who she had been able to see herself in? Had Diem just allowed herself to believe that she would always be alone for her entire life? It seemed sad, for a moment- but if I had a chance to walk away from the horrors of Illyrian history, I suppose I would as well. 

“Ladies,” a voice calls from above, before landing swiftly to the ground. Cassian. 

I clear my throat. “Ma’am,” I address Cassian, going along with his humor in front of someone else for once. 

Cassian looks Diem up and down, noticing the leathers strapped to her for some sort of attempt to blend in. He looked down, then up at her braids, before her face, chuckling. For a brief moment, I wanted to lash out- now wasn’t the time to get mad at Cassian for the way he looked at a possible.. Spy. 

Diem looks between us, clearly confused. She’d get the hang of the humor someday. I was sure of it- something inside of me told me she was the one for this quest, mission, whatever. Something inside of me told me she could do it, she was the one we needed to succeed. Diem was small, nimble, unassuming. She seemed to never pose a threat, always soft, welcoming, and a person you could accidentally tell your life story to over tea.  
And yet, she said yes to coming here. Diem said yes to an offer she didn’t even realize that I needed her to take. 

Could we do it without her? Maybe. 

But I’d rather do it with her. 

Dammit, Azriel. That sounded.. maybe incorrect. Diem was attractive and all, but we didn’t have time for those things in the middle of a war. Honestly, we don’t really have time in general. When it came to the whole spy gig, involving people in your life feels more dangerous as more people tend to want you dead. 

“So, I see you’ve gone for the scenic tour of the Night Court already,” Cassian observes, “Welcome to the real scenic part of the court: the Illyrian mountains. I know you’ve been here before, Diem, but maybe your mind as a seven-year-old saw things differently. Care to go on a quick flight with me?”

Charming as usual, for Cassian- as charming as he could get. I looked over at Diem, her eyes still holding that sparkle of wonder. It was then that she looked at me, almost for approval. 

“You’re the one with wings that you can choose to have or not- I’ll come find you when I’m done with a few things,” I say, tilting my head to find Diem fumbling with one of the many silver embellishments on the armor she was wearing. 

I look to Cassian, who holds my least favorite smirk of the day. “I’ll kill you,” I say, and shoot into the sky. 

[As Azriel goes off to do whatever it is he does, we focus back on our Diem.] 

“So, Princess, would you like to fly yourself or do you want me to hold you in my arms?” Cassian asks, a hand patting the top of my head. I scoffed, pushing his hand off of the top of my braids with a smile. 

I knew my way around the camp.. I think. But where were the girls? 

“I think I remember my way around a camp, actually- but I’m sure that a lot of things are different now. I don’t remember my camp having girls- and I know that I wasn’t supposed to live this long with wings.” I explain, my hand brushing over a table in the middle of an open building we had walked into. 

There was a map on the table of Prythian. The mortal world beyond the wall was empty, and the other courts had a series of color-coded dots within them. I noticed the least of them being in the Spring Court, as well as the Summer Court. I wondered why, but it would most likely be explained to me soon enough. 

Cassian was silent as I observed the map, arms crossed, leaning against a pillar of the supports to the building. He was probably waiting for me to realize that the information on the map wasn’t accurate, because there had to be more than just one or two people stationed in the Spring Court. There was no way it was that many.

Azriel wouldn’t have listed down all of his spies, anyway. There wouldn’t be only that many safehouses in the court listed down. It would’ve been kept secret, not posted in an accessible Illyrian war camp where warlords had to visit and come and go- one could turn at any time over to the clutches of Hybern.

“The map is inaccurate, for a reason. Right?” I ask, turning back to Cassian. 

The Illyrian smiles, looking behind his shoulder before speaking. “Right. And why is that?” 

I take in a breath. “Why would the Illyrian warlords be allowed to know top-secret information when any one of them could turn at any time? They aren’t citizens who fought in the war hundreds of years ago, guaranteed secrecy- they’re egotistical men with wings who may turn at the sight of a pedestal.”

Walking to the other side, I press my finger in the middle of the Spring Court on the map. “There’s a safe house here, or a person. They’re an informant. There’s a folder somewhere with information as an alias of an identity if you go there. There can’t be only two spots in the Spring Court for a safe place. Anyone born in the Hewn City wants a way out, and they’ll sell their lives for it.” 

Moving my touch to the cities in the Day and Dawn court, then the other courts respectively, I continue. “There’s less safehouses here than it displays. You put more to be reminded of that. There’s more spread out. It’s too much of a crowded spot to be hiding informants and allies, regardless of if their High Lord likes us.” 

Cassian chuckles. “So you’re a smart one. And? What’s last?” 

“Azriel’s not dumb enough to ever give out the actual identities and locations of his spies. It’s all just an estimate.” 

I take my hands off of the map. There’s a key at the bottom that I hadn’t bothered to read. Cassian walks to the map, shaking his head. “No one without the knowledge of Illyrian males would be able to tell any bit of that. Only an Illyrian woman who met Azriel twice could. Maybe it was easy- but I’m impressed, princess.” 

“What were we supposed to be doing today?” I ask, out of curiosity rather than being nervous or bored. I wasn’t afraid, I was.. Excited. I was excited to help.

Cassian sighs, running a hand to the back of the bun his hair was in, taking it down, before putting it back up again. “I’m thinking that you won’t need to be taught how to fight. In my head, you probably already know how to throw a punch and I won’t need to worry. Azriel has more he wants to teach you later, but I’m supposed to make sure you’re not stupid first.” 

“How am I doing on that front, Wise One?” I ask, leaning over the table, rolling my eyes to seem more dramatic. 

Cassian exhales, the whisper of a laugh. “Well. What do you know about all of the other courts?” 

The other courts. I was going to get sent to the other courts, I realized. I was being asked about what I knew because I was going to be sent to safehouses within the courts to assume new identities… for information. 

It all made sense now. 

“The Spring Court, Tamlin, (what it does,) I think- Summer, Taqruin, they have fishing and trade.. Autumn is Beron, I think they have some sort of industrial front. Winter has Kallias, I don’t know much about it. The solar courts.. Dawn has Thesan, and Day has Helion. Lots of research and tinkering goes on over there. I think Thesan has a daughter, but that’s all I know. The Night Court has High Lord Rhysand.” I went over, recalling the books I read at my cafe and the lessons I went through as a child, counting off the courts on my fingers as I went. 

“I suppose anyone could’ve known that, impressive for only referring to Rhys as a High Lord- I find it funny, he’s the only one I’d ever trust to be one anyways..” Cassian’s voice trails off, as he starts to think of another question to ask me, to prove myself. 

“Why are we not allies with the Spring Court?” Cassian asks, and I pause. 

Was it common knowledge that the Spring Court had murdered the High Lord’s parents? Or was it just something written in the logs kept in the library that I had conned my way into reading? 

“The reason why High Lord Rhysand is a high lord is because of the Spring Court, however it was not a one-sided feud. While we are not at war with their court, no one speaks lovingly of them.” I testingly say, waiting to see the Illyrian male’s reaction. 

He shakes his head, somewhat impressed, but then again, anyone could know that. “History books, or did you read the war logs that they keep in the city library?” 

I laugh, brushing my braids over my shoulder. “War logs. Anyone can read them, though- it’s not my fault that Velaris is full of artists and not historians and teachers. Parents enjoying teaching their children is a thing, and they don’t have to teach them the stories of war if they don’t want to.” 

Cassian nods, and walks to the entrance of the pavilion. “Come on, maybe the girls will be inspired to train if they see you flying.” 

This was the first time today I had felt actually nervous. Would I be even good enough at flying for this? 

Standing on the top of a cliff overlooking the camp, I stretched my arms, willing my wings to reveal themselves. The dark, leathery and almost purple skin immediately being hit by the light. Cassian stood next to me, but seemed to be in thought for all of today. 

“You’re more quiet than normal. I don’t like it.” I say, tilting my head to the side, a quiet pop coming from my neck. 

Cassian shrugs. “I’m more serious around here. It’s not a cafe in Velaris, these are people who dislike me- and dislike Illyrian women. I’m just trying to figure out where you fit into the big picture, is all. I’ll meet you at the bottom,” He says, and jumps off of the cliff. 

I yawn, not realizing I had even been tired, before stretching my wings, and letting gravity pull me off of the cliff. 

Looking up, I pushed myself far up into the skies, searching for any bit of momentum, of any feeling. My wings moved back and forth, burning from finally moving for today. 

I kept circling and going higher, my mind spiraling. 

So many questions from today- so many things I already knew, that anyone could have. How did that make me special? Why choose me, of all people- only because I’m an Illyrian girl with a tiny bit of training. Was I even cut out for this?

I was going to have to travel through other courts, manipulate my voice to match, change my appearance to match. Was I ready to lie about any part of my being?

How was I even going to do whatever it is I had to? 

And what would I be when I returned home one day to that damned coffee shop?

I stopped, hundreds of feet in the air. For a few seconds, I seemed to float. My wings were gone, hidden, and I was nothing but a girl in the air. 

The air crashed around me, as my body fell, and the trees began to look like more than bushes. 

I could see several Illyrians at the bottom, eyes wide- when I summoned my wings back again, pulling myself back up. I wouldn’t hit the ground today. 

My wings instinctively moved, and I slowed my fall, floating down to the ground, in what seemed to be the bottom of the cliff. There were figures all around, disapproving looks in their eyes- but the younger girls I could spy in the corner of my eye mixed a confused and yet intrigued look together. 

Cassian waved from behind the girls, calling me over to them. 

“Little show, I see,” He accuses, but I smirk. 

“Aw, you were watching? Just what I wanted, cupcake.” I stretch up as tall as I can to pat the top of his head, but I end up having to jump slightly. 

Cassian rolls his eyes, as the Illyrian girls smile. One is younger, not looking older than ten. 

“Where did you learn to fly like that?” She asks, red hair billowing over her shoulders. 

I laugh, bending down to talk to her, pushing my wings to vanish. “Sometimes, you don’t have to think about it- just fly. Let your instincts take over,” 

The girls nod, but I don’t quite think they understood just yet. One day they would. 

Flying was different- flying was like breathing, I could do both without thinking, and both gave the same feeling- it was what I was meant to do, what I had been born to do. The Illyrian way of life was to fight, and to fly, and to train. One day the girls would understand. Why else would they have been given wings if not to use them? 

I wandered away from the girls, watching as Cassian herded them into the nearby ring, some light hand-to-hand combat training. I played with the dagger strapped to my thigh, finding that twirling it between my fingers was easier than I had thought it would be. A few of the other Illyrians watched as Cassian trained the girls, some older and some tiny, as I watched as well. 

One of the Illyrians made their way next to me, watching as I played with the dagger, the handle with a moon carved into it. “And you’re sure that you’re an Illyrian?”

The male asks this with a tone I can’t quite recognize- perhaps that was because he shouldn’t have used it with me. I tilt my head. 

“Why?” I ask, a couple of choice words unspoken. 

He chuckles, leaning against the same banister I did. “You know why. Your little spectacle proved nothing- what was your name again? Ah, it doesn’t matter. The girls don’t deserve the training, Cassian’s time should be spent on the boys, anyways.” 

Silence struck every being, it seemed. The rustle of wind stopped, the giggling between the young Illyrian girls stopped. My breathing felt silent, and the shadows wrapped around my ankles. Cassian turned his head, gesturing to the girls to think nothing of what was happening. 

“It’s funny that you say that, really.” Step, step, step. 

The only sound that could be heard otherwise. 

“I came to check in on our newest ally, and this is what I come back to? Come now, boys. Let’s not play with what isn’t ours to begin with.” 

The clouds faded to a darker tint. 

“Now, that’s not to say there was an opportunity for play in the first place- but considering that my brother and I do currently rule over what happens here… at least try to remember who it is you’re speaking to.” The shadows swirled around, a thick fog. They found their way to the warrior standing next to me, pulling him away, away from others. 

He screamed, and I felt it in my fingers. The girls didn’t notice- it was almost as if nothing had ever happened. The Illyrian man screamed and I didn’t care. My mind was blank, all I could think of how he was screaming and it was too loud for my liking. 

Power seemed to form around me, the shadows at my wrists, swirling like a cool fog in the early summer’s morning. 

The screaming stopped. 

“Say that you’re sorry.” 

The man grimaced, beads of sweat trickling down his brow. He shook his head, a sadistic smile almost starting to form on his lips. 

An invisible force pushed his head to the ground, the smile disappearing. “Say it.” 

He scoffs, coughing. “I didn’t mean it.” 

A sigh from the low voice. “Good enough, I suppose. But I won’t forget. Take him elsewhere, and away from the girls.” 

Four Illyrian men surrounded the other, and took him away from the ring. 

Azriel stepped out from behind Cassian, emerging from his shadow. 

The darkness lifted, but the fog remained around my wrists. 

“Diem. I see you’ve met the girls.” 

His hair fell over his eyes before he walked towards me, the wind pushing it away from his view. Azriel looked deadly calm, his footsteps silent. The girls went back to their training. 

I smile, looking down. “They’re wonderful, really. I’m impressed by how much they’re already learning.” 

The spymaster shifts his weight, leaning on the surface next to me. “I suppose I agree. Well, now that I’ve dealt with enough Illyrian males for the day, would you like to come see where I’ve been working?” 

Nodding, Azriel takes my hand, a soft look on his face. He leans forward, looking as if he’s going to speak.. But instead, we step into my own shadow, all light of the world seeming to be ripped away from me.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi! if you're reading this ily! sorry i havent updated, my attachments to certain things fluctuate but im focusing on finishing this fanfic. comments are always appreciated!!


	7. Treetop Tea Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Azriel brings Diem to one of his many secret homes. 
> 
> Diem's going to the Spring Court, and she's going to be the perfect spy.

Stepping into the shadows alongside Azriel wasn’t as painful as I had expected it to be- but it made me feel as if the world was meant to be darkness, in a way. Light hurt when we stepped out of the folds of the shadows, almost as if I could have stayed inside of the shadows forever. 

I understood why Shadowsingers were so rare now- the power was so much, I was surprised why I hadn’t realized it before. They had little limits, and the darkness was overwhelming. I shut my eyes tight, holding my head in my hands. 

Azriel’s hand was around my waist, I realized. I didn’t push the touch away, instead I focused on letting the world come back into my line of eyesight, convincing myself that looking at any light was okay, I wouldn’t go blind. 

“Easy there,” Azriel rubbed a few circles onto my back. This sudden display of worry was new- he didn’t exactly seem like the type to rub my back when I felt like I was about to puke onto everything. 

I took in a deep breath. “Could you have least warned me?” 

It would’ve been nice to get a heads up that I would feel like actual death after shadow-stepping. 

“No. You would’ve had too much time to overthink it, or try to mentally prepare yourself for it. I decided that you were ready,” He shrugs, pulling his touch away from my waist. 

I tried my best to steady my breathing, before sitting up from my place, now on the floor. Where even were we?

The sun shone through curtains drawn, high up in the air. It hit me- were we in a tree?

I rubbed my temples with my hands, finding the strength to stand up. “Azriel, forgive me if this is a stupid question, but are we in a damn tree right now?”

The Illyrian who I had come to find myself starting to trust was across what seemed to be the main room, pouring hot water into a tea cup, gesturing for me to walk over to him. I did, looking around at the dark furniture and attempt at decor. There was a dark wooden table in the middle of the room, large enough to hold maps, books, quills and pencils, candles, weapons- and Azriel stood away from it, over at a set of plush chairs and another small coffee table. 

“I suppose we are. It’s extremely well hidden, though, and I’m the only way in or out. Blueberry muffin herbal, your favorite,” He handed me the teacup. I hadn’t realized he knew that. I thought back to the first time I had met Azriel- my cafe in Velaris. That tiny cafe, with the dusty shelves and Mossy.. 

I thought I might like the treetop getaway better than I had ever liked Velaris, even if Velaris did have everyone I loved- which really seemed to only be my cat, but that was okay.

Smiling at the spymaster, I took the teacup. “Thank you, but I think I might want a warning before we do the shadow thing again- I mean, while the ordeal at the camps was cute and all, maybe let me know that I’m about to get the life sucked out of me.” 

I sit down at one of the plush, dark blue chairs. Azriel sips from his own mug of tea, looking over to the large table with maps on it. 

There seemed to be a blue aura around Azriel at all times, so dark blue that it matched his shadows. I could only tell the blue was there in the light- and that was okay. I could live with seeing more of Azriel in the light rather than the dark, I just wasn’t sure if I knew him as a person yet. 

I could understand Cassian, always a sort of reckless, always doing the right thing, honest, ready for anything. But Azriel.. Azriel seemed to be constantly calculating. I wondered if he let himself exist in a moment, or if it was a constant of planning for the next. 

“I feel like I shouldn’t trust you.” Azriel admitted plainly, setting down his tea. There was a confused look in his eyes, a longing for explanation, it seemed. 

The spymaster took a second to take a breath, before continuing. “I know I shouldn’t. I’ve done countless background checks on you, I’ve searched your apartment and your cafe from head to toe, I’ve watched your every move, and I found nothing. I found nothing, Diem.” 

Nothing. I wasn’t interesting, wasn’t special. After all, there was no one left for me except one little black cat in a coffee shop. 

I wanted to speak, but I had nothing to say, nothing to add. There was nothing truly different about me. Just a runaway Illyrian who could hide the wings, but I would never be able to hide the scars. 

“Here I am, anyways. You’re in my secret and very much magical home, you’ve met my best friend, and I strapped my dagger to your thighs. I put my faith in something that I can lose nothing from, and I still feel like it’s wrong.” Azriel steps towards me, his hair falling in waves over his forehead. He puts his hand on the top of the plush lounge chair, made for an Illyrian’s wingspan. 

I looked up to meet his eyes, feeling his breath on my skin. “So don’t trust me. It’s as simple as that,” I breathe out, unafraid. 

There was no possible way to be afraid of a man who could kill me with it mind, at least not for me. As badly as I wanted to fear him, when I knew I should, I just.. Couldn’t. 

And I barely knew him. 

Azriel wasn’t going to hurt me even if his hand were forced. 

If I asked him to, I don’t think he would. 

I had no proof to back this up, I had nothing that made me believe this, just a feeling that I knew would be correct in the end. 

He leaned in closer to me, hazel eyes and perfect skin, and stared into my soul. “No. You’re going to go to the Spring Court, and you’re going to be the perfect spy.” 

A smirk started to form on his lips as he said the words that I would realize pushed me over the edge- I would go to the Spring Court, and I would be the perfect spy. 

“What makes you so sure, Shadowsinger?” I wondered out loud, leaning closer to his face, feeling his cold breath on my lips. 

He smelled like the trees, like the starlight that fades when the sun began to rise, and I wanted more of it, more of anything I could have my hands on. “You’re gonna win over Lucien with those pretty eyes of yours, you know that? Flutter your eyelashes a couple of more times and take in a deep breath, like we practiced. Listen in on conversations while you do your tasks as a designer for their seamstress, get in close, find weak spots. You’d know how to do it without me telling you.” 

I almost leaned in to close the gap between us, but I caught myself. If anyone was going to push what was a chance to happen any further, it would be Azriel. He was the spy, not me. 

Well- I suppose I was a spy as well. 

“When do I leave?” Pretty eyes. Flutter my eyelashes a few more times, and I’d win Lucien over. 

Pretty eyes, huh? 

Azriel looked down to my empty hands, the teacups on the table next to us, studying my body language. My arms had originally been crossed, one leg crossed over the other, but now, my hands were pushing me up from the plush chair to meet him. He chuckled, a low, warm sound. 

“Tomorrow. I’ll be taking you in the evening. There’s an apartment and a job for you, but seeing as it’s later already.. I figured we could learn your new identity over dinner,” Azriel pulled away from me, running a hand through his hair. 

He said these words with a slight smile, such a change from the usual dead tone. What had happened, why was there any reason for Azriel to be close to me? 

I blink. “Are you usually this close with your spies, or am I just special?” 

Azriel had turned away from me, rolling up the maps on the table, clearing it. He bit his lip when he turned back to me, the light pink flesh between his teeth before he spoke, 

“You’re my perfect little spy, aren’t you? I’ve got to treat you nicely if you’re gonna win over everyone else too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i have the next eleven chapters planned out bruh oh my god also this chapter was hard to write HHH remember azriel has no shortage of lovers but ...... yeah wouldnt consider diem one LET ME KNOW IF YOU LIKED THIS !! AHHHH

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading this far also comments are loved!!


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